


Romeo, Doff Thy Name

by ottermo



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inconsequential fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monica is determined to guess what that 'E' stands for. </p><p>Self-indulgent silliness because I can't get enough of these two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romeo, Doff Thy Name

* * *

 

She tells him, between kisses, “Well, you’ve _got_ to tell me now.”

“Oh yes?” He marvels, not for the first time, at how easy smiles are these days. “Didn’t realise that was the rule.”

“And here was I thinking you were the expert on the law.” She props herself up on her elbow. “Go on. Even just the first letter?”

He regards her for a few seconds. He considers throwing her his favourite red herring – it _does_ begin with ‘N’, sort of – but ends up going with “It’s a vowel.”

She purses her lips, lightly. “Is it in my name?”

“Nope.”

She kisses him on the nose, “Well, E. Morse or U. Morse. I’d love to stay, but I’m going to be late for work.”

He watches her go. He doesn’t care if the dreamy smile gets stuck on his face all day. Let Jakes have a smirk at his expense – somebody cares which word means _him_.

* * *

 

“Edward.”

“No.”

“Edgar.”

“No.”

“Edmund.”

“No.”

“Edwin.”

“No. Have you forgotten about the U?”

“I’m only going to resort to that when I’ve exhausted E. I’ve got a hunch about E.”

* * *

He meets her after work and walks her to a café. She smiles into her coffee, strands of hair starting to wander from their precise style after a long shift. He’ll never finish the list of ways she’s beautiful.

“Emmett, Egbert, Ebenezer.” Even when she’s spouting off alliteration that’s almost as outrageous as the word she’s looking for.

“None of the above.”

“And it’s definitely a boy’s name?”

He grimaces. “Insofar as it’s an anything name. Let’s just say I’ve never met a woman who shares it.”

“Syllables?”

“In the plural.”

She sips her drink. “You are _hilarious.”_

“No, that begins with H,” he quips, and finishes his tea. She chuckles. It’s one of the finest arie he’s ever heard.

* * *

 

After three days of guesses: “Ulysses?”

He takes the dishcloth from her hand and places it on the side. Wraps his hands around her waist. “Given up on E?”

Her hands go to his shoulders, a slow-dance so slow it’s standing still. “The only other one I could think of was Ernest.”

He laughs, “‘The only really safe name’?”

She looks at him blankly.

He meets her gaze with mock-horror. “Don’t you know your Wilde?”

A wink. “I’m wild? In what sense?”

He winks back, “You tell me.” Then, after allowing himself a few seconds just to gaze, “Not Ernest. Not Ulysses. Do you give up?”

She kisses him, then pulls away to throw the dishcloth at him. “No. I’m going to get it. Without you telling me.”

He twists the cloth around his fingers, smiles to himself and says, “Well, best of luck with that endeavour.”

He’s more proud of that than is really reasonable.


End file.
